


Reattached

by zephyrprince



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: British source, F/M, Great Britain, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Slash, challenge: harryronholiday, queer heterosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-03
Updated: 2011-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephyrprince/pseuds/zephyrprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Christmas spent back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reattached

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written for the 2010 harryronholiday exchange on livejournal. It was created for katie_padfoot based on her prompt. The original author's note read, "Happy Holidays! I hope this isn't too shmoopy for you!"
> 
> The emotional architecture of the work was largely inspired by and derived from the song, "Love Theme," by Vangelis, originally composed for the soundtrack to the 1982 film, _Bladerunner_.

The office door swung open as a tall red headed woman slammed into the side of the frame, pushing herself through the opening as though the passageway, her body, and the laws of physics, themselves, limited the speed her will pressed for.

"What have you heard?"

Hermione put down her book, unperturbed by the rasping figure before her.

"They're alright."

"Thank Merlin." Ginny collapsed into the single overstuffed chair facing Hermione's desk. Though relieved, her state of frenzy still kept her from surveying the space. It was small, one of the lowest level ministry offices to be sure, and it was filled on all sides by variously colored books, scrolls, and loose parchment, all stacked haphazardly almost to the low ceiling. She'd not visited Hermione's new office on account of both how recently she'd gotten the position and the rigorous training schedule of the Holyhead Harpies.

"Mom sent an owl. They're safe back at the Burrow now."

Ginny exhaled, regaining composure.

"There were, however, complications."

\----

Harry opened his eyes and fumbled for his glasses. He instantly recognized his surroundings but did not immediately return to everything that had happened over the past day.

It had started a week prior really. The Auror office had gotten a lead on the location of Thorfinn Rowle, one of the last remaining Death Eaters at large, and one of those whom Harry was most personally invested in finding. It was a team of five that tracked him to the Irish caves of Ben Madigan, but in the end he and Ron had been the two advancing into the cave while the others provided cover outside. Harry had insisted it be them in a moment he'd come to recognize as hubristic, a rare occurrence since the calm he'd achieved in the years following the fulfillment of Trelawney's prophecy. Ron had gone along in support as he always did and it had almost spelled their doom as it often had, but they'd survived once again.

Harry let out a sigh and finally gathered the strength to mobilize his body, sitting up and pulling his hand forward. And there it was. The thing he'd forgotten in the utopian moments of waking. The _ignobilis reflectum _.__

As the curses had flown around the cave, and as Rowle's torture of Harry flashed once again into his eyes, he'd reached out to Ron in sudden terror. Their hands clasped at the very moment the spells collided.

It didn't hurt. In fact, Ron bounced back quick enough to disarm and stupefy the Death Eater even as Harry cowered against his chest, single tears falling from each eye beneath his glasses. But the curse had found its mark. It may not have had its intended effect, but it was an effect nonetheless. The place of contact—the boys' conjoined hands—was stuck. They were now glued together.

"Good morning, mate," came Ron's voice from beside him. "You reckon we can get this thing taken care of today?"

His smile was good natured as always and he squeezed Harry's hand through their connection.

"How long have you been awake?" Harry rubbed his eyes on his left arm and placed his glasses on his face.

"Not long," he shrugged. "I was fine, very relaxed. Just glad to be alive I guess."

Harry felt suddenly awkward, painfully aware of the part he'd played in making that gladness so immediately legible.

He was also strangely aware that the two men had not been together in only their underwear since they were boys. As they got up and neatened the bed awkwardly with the three arms they had, Harry noticed that Ron seemed to have replaced his y-fronts with loose-fitting trunks. For a moment, thoughts of life and death, curses and cowardice receded in favor of a youthful awkwardness of having dropped the metaphorical ball, having stuck with his same white undergarment choices from their school days.

Before they could even get fully dressed a visitor toddled into the room.

"Hey there, little guy," Harry said, instinctively reaching down to pick up his son.

"Ah, Sorry, mate," he added as Ron was tugged down involuntarily towards the floor.

"Daddy, what're you doing?"

"What do you mean, James?"

"I think he means with this," Ron indicated their hands with his eyebrows. The child nodded.

"Are you and Uncle Ron playing a game?"

"Something like that," Harry shrugged. "Your uncle and I haven't played these games in a very long time."

\----

Ginny and Hermione sipped their tea at the Burrow's kitchen table. It was early and the boys were still asleep recovering from the previous day's events, and though they knew their respective husbands were just upstairs, it comforted them both to glance intermittently at Mrs. Weasley's clock, which had expanded considerably since their youth to include the family spouses – Harry, Hermione, Angeline, and Fleur – as well as their children. Both Harry and Ron's hands were stationary, pointing at "safe and sound."

"So how is the ministry job?" Ginny added more sugar to her cup.

Hermione pursed her lips, "To be honest, it's been challenging balancing SPEW and this new position. And, you know me, the hands off approach is tough even with the great elves we have in the leadership. But the Department of Mysteries. It's like a dream come true. Actually sometimes it's more like just a dream," Hermione got caught up in her own mind considering this last point, staring into the middle distance for a moment to reflect on what she'd said.

"I know what you mean. We hardly get a break with the team. It's what I've always aimed for and now it's tough."

As they discussed their careers, the two women slipped into a more relaxed state. Laughing at something else, Ginny turned away, a wry smile curving the end of her mouth.

"You know, the funny thing about this whole curse business?"

Hermione tensed again a bit, arching her back. "Well, if it weren't Christmas Eve the whole thing would be over by now anyhow. Really it's preposterous that Dr. Acharya is the only one at St. Mungo's who can do the counter curse and he's on holiday…"

"No, no," Ginny shook her head still smiling. "The funniest thing about this curse is how much time the boys will be spending alone."

Hermione, cocked her head, locking eyes with her sister-in-law, "You mean?"

Ginny's grin spread.

Hermione giggled and a soft, whimsical smile spread across her face as well.

\----

The day was uneventful.

Though they'd evidently slept in the same bed the night before, because of the trauma and fatigue of the battle Harry hadn't remembered this part. He didn't linger on the awkwardness as they stripped off and pulled back the covers on Ron's bed, the moment that brought them back to childhood and long visits to the Burrow.

After eggnog was drunk, and wizarding carols sung; after toddlers were sent off to bed, and their gifts wrapped and placed under the tree; after the two men kissed their wives goodnight, they tiredly and awkwardly trooped up the stairs to Ron's old room.

As they prepared for sleep, conversation broke off between the two. It was a testament to their friendship that this awkwardness could be sublimated under the decades of familiarity they had between them. It wasn't uncomfortable. Not really, but it was strange. Since their weddings, since the night before Ron and Hermione's to be precise, they hadn't spent a night together. And they never talked about any of the things they had done together in their youth. That was all ancient history now, and anyway it didn't really mean anything.

As they lay stark still on the very sides of the bed as far apart as they could possibly be, they tried not to pay attention to one another, but threading between them under the quilts, their arms still connected them to one another. Ron's hand began to slick with sweat. Harry breathed deeply.

Both boys lay in silence, staring up at the ceiling, each hoping the other was not as aware of the silence as he was.

Eventually Ron cleared his throat.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Oh. Nothing."

"Oh."

"I was just thinking…" In Harry's mind he heard his companion finishing this statement with fond memories, youthful indiscretions or moments of calm between storms, but what was actually said was, "…about how I've been so worn out all day, but now that I'm lying here, I can't sleep at all."

Harry didn't know what to say. Unthinking, he flipped onto his side, facing away from the center of the bed and in so doing, pulled Ron's body lurchingly towards him. But even as Harry started to apologize, Ron shushed him. He didn't move away. And after a few long empty moments, the taller boy reached around and wrapped his frame around Harry, pulling him in to be his small spoon.

As they settled into the embrace, Ron's wet lips caressed Harry's neck. Though it had been unintentional, Ron pursed and gave the hair-lined nape of skin a gentle kiss. Harry could see in his mind's eye his best friend's freckled face brought into sharp contrast against his unbroken whiteness.

Ron's still more muscular arms enveloped Harry ending with their free hands clasping tightly together.

He was also becoming aware of Ron's long thick penis, stiff in his boxers and poking at his fleshy bottom. There was the smallest moment in which this point of contact threatened to spark a tension that would take them in another direction entirely, but the collective release of the social tension and the relief of once again finding themselves in this most comfortable and comforting position soon sent both men off to sleep.

\----

On Christmas morning, the two woke up sweaty and spooning. One of many holidays spent at the Burrow, this felt not unfamiliar. They got dressed in silence, but this time it was unstrained, not awkward. And even their awareness and consideration of the one attached to them became easier, more natural.

They had Christmas morning with the whole family, replete with Weasley sweaters, coffee, toy brooms, and the shining faces of the youngest children, including Teddy Lupin, who joined them as usual for family events.

Mrs. Weasley wept, and everyone else shed smaller tears when they toasted to family members they'd lost in the war, but quiet joy was the emotional median of the day as they tucked into the Christmas feast, happy to be surrounded by everyone they loved.

There were a few foibles, involving the boys' hands, one with some gift wrap and another with boiled peas and a fork…but for the most part, things were unexpectedly smooth.

\----

That night, serene and satisfied from such a great day, the two once again got undressed. Their previous shyness had evaporated in favor of the familiarity they'd shared before marriage, before careers, before graduation, and before the war.

They climbed into bed, Ron in nightshirt and boxer shorts, Harry wearing only his white y-fronts, and almost immediately, Ron scooped the smaller boy back into his strong and comforting embrace.

Feeling his best friend holding him from behind, the naked flesh of their differently pigmented hairy legs rubbing together, Ron's toes flicking at the soles of Harry's foot, and feeling Ron's free hand roaming over Harry's naked torso that had grown ever so slightly more stocky with age, Harry felt so much at peace.

After a long, comfortable silence, Ron spoke.

"Mate, can I ask you something?"

Harry's heart heaved suddenly, afraid Ron would mention that which they'd never discussed.

Holding his breath, he replied, "Yes?"

"In the cave… what happened?"

Harry exhaled, relieved only to be find himself facing another point of embarrassment.

"I…," he started. "I honestly don't know. I started flashing back."

He paused to think.

"I guess there's a lot from the war that I haven't totally dealt with yet."

Ron let out a small noise and held him closer and tighter, burying his face in the inside nook formed between Harry's head, neck and shoulder.

"Ron?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad you were there."

They paused.

"I'll always be there, Harry."

Harry turned his head without fully adjusting. He tried to meet Ron's gaze, but his friend looked away.

As his eyes glistened, misting over with forming tears, Harry closed them and leaned over, his lips alighting on Ron's.

They held their lips together unmoving for several moments. It wasn't strange. It wasn't all they wanted. But it felt right.

Ron opened his mouth and rolled his tongue into his friend's, moving through the wetness and returning to his insides.

Harry turned his body around, facing Ron more directly, rubbing his package against his friends' as blood began to fill both of their crotches.

Their mouths never parted from one another just as their hands were stuck. But the rest of their body parts became suddenly mobile, their free hands roaming over one another's skin, legs entangling and retangling to bring their cocks into new and different pleasurable contacts with one another.

Ron reached down with his right hand and gripped Harry's buttocks firmly over the white worn fabric of his y-fronts. The material was already distended, but as Ron's large strong arm pulled Harry from the bottom even closer to his body, the garment threatened to shred from the strain of his boner.

As the tone built in intensity from comfort to lust, Harry finally reached into the Ron's boxers, his hand finding the thing which he sought. The enormous hard penis he remembered from childhood.

Ron gasped as the skin of Harry's fingers made contact with his manhood, first just taking in its tactile terrain before finding the opening in the gobby foreskin and opening it to explore his wet head.

When he recollected himself, Ron reached rapidly beneath the waistband of Harry's briefs, grasping what he also wanted – Harry's small, dark cock.

They continued to kiss passionately and jerk up and down on each other's poles and squeezing together their already grasped hands. Suddenly, Harry could take the pressure no longer, leaping up and planting his ass on Ron's cock, such that the outside of his hole was being teased hard by the tip of the hard freckled knob.

He rode up and down, never trying to open himself fully, but flexing the muscles of his butt so that Ron's head was kissed by the moist pucker and the muscles clinched on and off around his prostate, his own little dick wagging out in front of him as Ron moaned.

As he felt himself reaching closer and closer to climax, Harry pulled himself back gripping their two hardnesses together with his free hand and jerking the two foreskins up and down rapidly.

Ron grated his teeth, letting out a heavy gasp. Harry's hand clinched as did his asshole. And the two boys ejaculated hard, spurting their cum all over Ron's torso at the very same moment.

\----

On the morning after, goodbyes were said with the extended Weasley family with a note of sadness though none went very long without seeing each other.

Mr. Weasley prepared the fireplace, and Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny took the floo network to St. Mungo's.

"Disiungo Exsero."

Dr. Acharya completed his preparations, tapping his wand on their point of conjunction.

Nothing happened.

Harry looked up, scared just for a moment, but Ron was seemed unconcerned. His best friend smiled a deep and affectionate, loving smile. Looking him right in the eye, Ron spoke.

"You have to let go, mate."


End file.
